


Arbutus

by sacredhell



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Original Character(s), ummm lol.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:46:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredhell/pseuds/sacredhell
Summary: It's not home, but it's something like it. And she would die before she let this go.





	Arbutus

**Author's Note:**

> one of my aus for my wol sanide mela ahaha here she is btw im addicted to botany https://i.imgur.com/uJ8yIVq.jpg  
> follow me on twitter @silverfulier

Water pours from from a faucet into a marble bath, more akin to a pool in its size. Beside it, a young woman stares into the rising steam, blood dripping from her scant armor and staining her white scales. The sound of the tub filling echoes through the gaudy and spacious bathroom, drowning out the sound of her own pounding heart and ragged breaths. From behind her she hears the shuffle of bare feet on tile and the whisper of clothes hitting the floor; the intruder makes no sound as they step up behind her and unclasp the stained armor clinging to her skin with half dried blood. As the steel falls away her chest expands, finally taking in the air she felt was choking her for so long. There is a gentle clatter as her armor is placed on the floor carefully, not loud enough to startle her or disturb the almost silence in the room.

Hands pull at her clothes, easing her limbs through them as gently as he (that's right, it was him wasn't it) could. She felt no discomfort at her nudity, only leaning back into the body behind her as her heart finally slows. How long has it been since they set out? Hours? Days? Her fragmented memory of fighting is no help, only setting her more on edge as she grasps for something to hold onto. The man behind her huffs in what could be laughter, before pressing her forward into the steaming water. Almost immediately she relaxes, the feeling of blood and dirt washing off of her body is like a weight being lifted; her heart calms and she closes her eyes, letting herself remember where and who she is.

She is Sanide ban Mela, daughter of the Dawn Father, unguided dark knight, and hunting hound of the crown prince of Garlemald. Who is currently lounging in the tub behind her, uncaring of her wavering identity. She knows that she should be scared, that anyone else in her position would be, but she...isn't. He could break her in half on a whim, but she knows he won't. He can't. She'd faced him while lost to the darkest reaches of her soul, and nearly come out victorious; and instead of having this dangerous outsider executed for murder, he had laughed and called for her to be shackled and cleaned. Her memories of that time are a blur, but she remembers how she still fought, against herself and her captors, until a gauntleted hand had pushed her into a pool of scalding water. She cannot forget the way the water had soothed her soul and brought her back to herself. She doesn't want to think of why.

She sinks further into the water, keeping her nose just above the surface, and rubs her hands down her arms. Blood and dirt come loose from her scales, tinging the water pink before some Garlean contraption filters the dirty water out. A large hand brushes over her neck, tracing the delicate scales encircling it like a necklace. She shivers, leaning back into the touch as it travels down her back to rest just above her tail. It twitches in the water, brushing against a leg. Behind her, Zenos yae Galvus hums and runs a hand over the appendage.

And tugs.

She falls back into him with a shout, throwing an elbow back into his gut hard. He barely reacts, only huffing out a laugh and gripping the back of her neck tightly. She fights it, pulling forward with all her strength, clawing at his arm, anything. But- she's enjoying this. She breaks out into a feral grin, playing the part of the "savage" he so loves to call her. Zenos grips harder, holding her in place as he watches her struggle in amusement. 

"My dear beast, you'll have to do better than that if you wish for me to keep you," His tone is lighter than his grip, yet it keeps her in place just as well, "I saw how you tore into those worthless animals; cleaving their bodies in twain, soaking your blade in their blood."

Her breath catches in her throat; she may not remember what she does on the battlefield but her body remembers the adrenaline well. "Perhaps I am tired. As you said, I fought viciously; am i not allowed my rest?" She bites back with as much spite as she can muster, her chest shuddering as his grip on her neck turns into a caress, "You should understand I'm much...daintier than you." He scoffs at her words, pushing his hand up into her white hair.

"You jest, but I would not have you degrade yourself with such flowery terms. 'Twould be foolish of me to underestimate you simply because you lack my own stature," His words are harsh, yet Zenos combs through her hair almost tenderly, like one would stroke their favorite pet, "You return to my side every time covered in the offal of our prey, how could I not wish to have that turned against my own blade? Our first meeting was unfortunate; I would have you enjoy our fight with your mind intact."

Adrenaline bursts through her veins at the thought of meeting him in battle as herself, and she runs a hand up his leg, "Is that what you're looking for here? A fight?" With a jerk she frees herself from his petting and turns to face him, hands resting on his knees, "This is hardly the place for a grand battle with blades, but perhaps..." She trails off, reaching up to run a hand over his chest.

A small smile on his lips, Zenos watches her with hooded eyes. His hand returns to her, smoothing over her back and scratching at her clean scales. She closes her eyes at the sensation, digging her claws into his skin just enough to tease at violence. "But perhaps, you wouldn't mind if I met another sword right now." His lips twitch downward at her wordplay; an immature joke but she couldn't resist. 

She pulls her hand down his chest, leaving red lines behind, and places her hand at the base of his cock. She wonders how long he's been hard; if his talk of their recent conquest was anything to go by he might have been aroused since watching her cut down enemy soldiers. The idea of him watching her and wanting her while she was in the throes of madness made something in her purr in satisfaction. 

"Well?" His expression remains neutral, but she can feel his impatience in his twitching muscles, "Will you make me wait even longer for what you've promised?" 

She grips him with no warning, enjoying how his eyes flutter shut at her hand on his skin. His deep hum of approval makes her tail curl, excitement stirring in her blood as she moves her hand slowly over his erection. Her fist clenches harder when he makes another sound and she almost lets go in worry, but Zenos closes his own hand around hers, keeping her grip so tight it must be painful.

"I didn't tell you to stop," He nearly growls, dragging her hand along his cock as slowly as she had before. She presses against him eagerly, stroking him with an intensity she only felt in battle. For a time the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the swishing of displaced water. With Zenos' deepening breaths she feels her own arousal grow, shifting her hips to find some sort of pleasure. 

Carefully, she squeezes him one last time and pulls away, much to his displeasure. "You. Why are you stopping?" His voice is shaky, but low with lust. 

She shifts to rest over him, once more gripping his cock, "Sanide. My name is Sanide. Call me by it." And with that she slips onto him, exhaling at the stretch. His size is nothing to scoff at, but her body is made for tight fits and she adjusts easily. "If you won't, then you may keep your mouth shut if it pleases you." She smiles demurely, leaning in as if to kiss him before biting viciously at his lower lip. Zenos moans into her mouth, his hands grasping her hips with bruising strength. There is nothing gentle about how they fuck, nothing for it to be called love, but she feels warmth in her chest all the same; the knowledge that this is all she has, this is where she belongs, it anchors her. She lifts herself nearly off of him, pushing back down and whimpering against his lips. 

"Sanide, then. Sanide. You monstrous thing," Zenos groans and pulls his head back, the blood running down his chin painting a frightening picture with his wide grin, "If your gods were real, I would thank them for bringing me something so perfectly made for me." His chest heaves with his hips, pressing into her even as he speaks.

"The only god you should be speaking of here," She pauses to breathe shakily, "Is me. If you desire your finale then you'll have to beseech me for mercy." His hands tighten against her again, his muscles spasming at her words. She knows what he wants in these encounters; to be owned, to be struck down from where he sits above all living things. She will gladly provide him his pleasure as she takes her own.

She kisses him again, but softly, lapping up the blood staining his lips and teasing at his tongue. Her gentleness startles him, and it's all he needs to reach his climax. He pulls her down against him, moaning out her name shakily as she smooths his hair back from his face, moving her hips against him as she finds her own completion.

Coming down is softer than she expects, Zenos relaxing his grip until he's stroking down her bruised sides. She rests her head in the crook of his neck, shaking and weak. It's always like this. They're coupling begins with violence and ends in something that could be called tenderness. She wonders if it's some sort of compromise, that he has decided to provide her with something she desperately needs even as she gives into his desires. 

It isn't that she doesn't enjoy the brutality, the blood and bruises that come from sex with Zenos, but something in her would break if she lost the feeling of touch without pain. Her eyes slip shut, her body relaxing in the still warm water of the bath and the comfort of living flesh against her own.

It's not home, but it's something like it. And she would die before she let this go.


End file.
